You're Hot and You're Cold and Crazy
by CubaPwns13
Summary: What if the space race was actually a bet? Warning: cursing, yaoi, sexual implications, hinted Mpreg, and pure crap. Pairings: RussiaxAmerica, AmericaxEngland, AmericaxOCMexico , random LatviaxEstonia.
1. An Ill Advised Bet

**You're Hot and You're Cold (and Crazy)**

**Summery:** Some bets just aren't meant to be made. And when they are.. well..

**Warnings: **Cursing. A lot of cursing... America's a little more psycho than usual due to Cold War stress. Poland comes over. Random Prussia scenes. The Baltics go crazy. And, at some point later on, an insanity meter talks to Estonia. Read only if you dare.

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Latvia's pov:

Latvia sighed as he looked around the dark room. Russia was in here somewhere. He always went in here when he wanted to hide frome Belarus.

"Russia?" Latvia called quietly. "Russia?"

No answer. Latvia's eyes traveled across the room, coming to rest on a large pile of clothes in the corner of a battered rug. He approached it carefully and lifted off the top shirt, revealing Russia's violet eyes.

"Russia?"

"Hmm?"

"He's here."

"Who's here?"

"America."

"Ah, right." The pile toppled as Russia stood up, towering over Latvia. "You coming?"

Latvia started, "I-I think I'm gonna fix dinner instead. After all, this is more of a m-military issue. I'm not much help there."

Russia stared at Latvia until dread started to well up in his stomach. Then he smiled. "Okay. Out of curiosity, what are you making?"

"I-uh," Latvia smiled back weakly. "I have no idea. Maybe some stroganoff since it's cold outside. Y-you know. Comfort food."

Russia nodded and walked towards the door. "Oh, Latvia?" His back was turned. Latvia couldn't see his face.

"Ye-yes?"

"Um... Belarus isn't anywhere around, is she?"

He relaxed. "No. She left. Doesn't like America that much. Says he gets in her way."

"Hmm.. okay then." Russia walked out.

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Russia's pov:

Russia waited until he was out of earshot and released a sigh of relief. Belarus was his sister and he loved her like a sister. The only problem was that _she_ didn't love _him_ in typical brother-sister proportions. He constantly had to look over his shoulder to make sure she wasn't stalking him. (Though she usually was.)

He paused outside the sitting room and focused on happy thoughts. Something to brighten his mood. He and America were both strong countries. They often worked together on major world issues and (kind of) fought on the same side in wars.

Of course, none of that meant they didn't piss each other off. Quite the contrary, actually. Each one seemed to be the _only _person that could really piss the other off.

Russia pushed open the door and walked into the room. Standing in the center was America, looking the same as he always did. Same flyaway hair, same glasses, same strangely casual clothes, but for some reason...

"America, why are you wet?"

And god, was it true. He was soaked. Didn't exactly look happy about it either.

"Some girl came in the room and dumped this stuff on me. It's not even water!"

''What is it then?''

"I don-I-I'm not sure. All I know is that is brown and it smells... like meat."

Beef broth? She poured _beef broth_ on him? That was just special, even for Belarus.

"What did you do to her?"

''Oh, I preformed the capital offense of saying hi.'' America voice dripped with sarcasm.

Russia felt a vague annoyance. Great Belarus, anger America as soon as he walks though the door. That'll sure lead to diplomatic relations. Russia looked him up and down. No way was he letting America sit on any of his furniture with the state he was in.

"If you want America, you can change into some of my clothes. I will clean yours and sent them to you later."

America made a face. Russia guessed he didn't find wearing his clothes too appealing. " It would be better than the clothes you are in now, da?"

America sighed. "Yeah. Da and whatever."

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America's pov:

America stared at himself in the mirror. Russia really must have gotten a kick out of choosing his clothes for him. He chose his freaking communist uniform. With the dark blue coat and pants, and the gold buttons, he could almost pretend it was his civil war outfit.

If he ignored the ignored the soviet star on the arm.

It also didn't fit right. The top was fine, but the pants were about two inches too long. Still, Russia had taken his other clothes, so his only other option was to go parading around in his underwear. And there was about zero chance of him ever doing that in front of that stupid commie.

America suddenly turned and walked out, finding his way back. Whatever. It was just clothes, right? It wasn't like _he_ was going to switch to the evil economic system. How could he be the Land of the Free then? Not to mention the hero. Heros, he was sure, were never communist.

Regardless of those facts, America couldn't help but slow when came near the sitting room. Something about this entire situation was absolutely humiliating. Why _Russia?_ He'd have been fine if it had been any other country, but Russia stood for everything he hated. And he just knew he'd be smirking when he walked in. Saying a thousand trillion things just by sitting there: _I'm better than you. Stalin was awesome. Communism is better than capitalism, you monopolist. Now that you're in proper uniform, you will become one, da?_

Suck.

America swallowed his manic bitterness, somehow forcing a mask of a smile onto his face.

Then he walked in.

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Russia's pov:

Russia really hadn't known what to expect when he gave America his uniform, but he couldn't help but smile darkly when he walked in. If he hadn't known he was American, he would have assumed he was Russian. And Russia liked it that way.

Besides, Russia happened to know that America's deepest desire was to become one-even if America hadn't realized it yet. Russia figured that it must somewhere deep within his subconscious, so he silently vowed to probe that part of his mind.

Then, sooner or later, America would realize just how stupid his system was and come crying to him. And of course, dear, pitying Russia would happily take him in as a new part of the Soviet Union. He even had a few special treatments planned for him.

"Russia, stop staring at me like that. I do have a gun. And I'd take great pleasure in shooting you a couple hundred times. Don't push me, asshole."

Russia suppressed a jump, startled out of his thoughts. "I had not meant to stare, comrade. Though in my opinion, I do find those clothes much more suitable on you than any of the other casual disasters I have seen in previous years."

America was still smiling at him, though his eyes had widened slightly, a small glint working its way into them. Russia wondered in a detached manner how such a small thing could change his expression so drastically. First he was sweet and friendly and next he looked a bit like General Winter his smile was so cold. Interesting.

"I'm just sorry I'll never be able to return the favor, Russia."

"Hmm? What are you talking about America?"

"I'm sorry but your clothes are a bit too big on me. Even if you wanted to borrow my clothes, you'd have to lose weight. You're too fat."

Russia frowned. "I'm big-boned."

"You're in denial too."

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America's pov:

America's hands clenched as his mind took an uncharacteristically dark turn. Forget the gun. This guy needed something evil. And although he didn't know the details yet, he was getting some pretty good vibes from the words "hand saw" and "staple gun".

Russia wouldn't know what was coming to him.

".. but what about you, comrade?"

"What?" America's stomach twisted sharply when he realized Russia'd been talking to him the entire time. He hadn't heard a word. Russia just smiled.

"I was suggesting we build a satellite in space together. You and I both have interests in that area, I presume? Think of the resources we would save. They are numerous, da?"

"I see..." was all America said. He _did_ see the advantages of an international satellite. As far as he knew, both his and Russia's space programs were progressing steadily, though they lacked a few crucial pieces. Russia might hold some of the knowledge he sought for. And probably vice versa.

Russia was right about resources as well. The materials needed weren't exactly cheap. Sharing costs would lift a huge financial burden off both of them. It'd allow that money to be used for... other things. (Such as paying off a crapload of debt money. Screw you England.) Anyway... yeah. Yeah that would help with that.

But still, this was_ Russia_. The man was not to be trusted under _any_ circumstances. Knowing him, he'd probably bug the system and learn every classified thing in the pentagon.

No thanks.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass on that, Russia. It's better if we each stick to our own projects."

Russia's smile didn't waver. "Of course. I mearly thought to save you embarrassment, comrade. I am sure you know that Russian satellites will be in space before your pathetic American ones can even be assembled."

America's smile darkened further, successfully pissed off. "Oh, Russia. It's a sad fact, but you can't see the future. We won't know who goes up first till the one who does, does it."

"You seem rather uncertain, comrade."

"I'm certain enough."

"Then perhaps a bet?"

"No."

Russia continued anyway. "Whoever manages to get into space first gains the other as.. well.. basically their bitch for a month."

America frowned, unable to resist. "F-fine," Damn that stutter. Damn it. _Dammit!_ "Whoever goes up first gets the other servitude for a month."

Russia stood up and grabbed America's forearm, America quickly grabbing his opposite shoulder.

"America you are so kind, changing words around to make things sound more appealing. I like to think it's that faux sweetness that keeps you from being compared to me." He sighed as America's glasses flashed. "But never mind that. It is a deal."

They tightened their grips on each other for a second. Both aiming to bruise. Both succeeding.

Unnoticed by the pair of them, a small figure darted away from where he'd been listening.

"This.. won't turn out well," Lithuania sighed.

**A/N: **Yes! Done with the first chapter! I was a bit worried at first but I think it's gonna turn out well enough. I'll try and update whenever I can but it'll be pretty irregular so bare with me chicas, I'm lazy. Rate and review please~


	2. Let's Go to Russia's

**Disclaimer:** (Since I forgot to do this on the first chapter) If I was creative enough to have come up with Hetalia, I'd rule the world by now. So I'm not and I didn't.

**A/N:** I'm baaa-aaack! Quick little note here then I'll get out of your hair: This chapter takes place two years after the bet's been made. America's already lost.

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America's pov:

America walked down the street, mentally torturing himself.

How could he let this happen? He had the technology. He had the resources. He had all that was needed.

He just hadn't been able to get all of it together in time.

Russia had though. Russia had worked quickly and efficiently where America hadn't. Now Russia was the first one in space.

It was Russia's house he went to now. That stupid bet... Honestly, it was the last thing he needed right now.

Still, America made a point of keeping his promises. Unless, of course, his boss didn't want him to. But that was a different senario entirely and usually involved England and his nasty cooking. America couldn't help it if his boss didn't want him to die.

America turned off the street and began walking up to the mansion that was Russia's current house. Before he could knock on the door, it opened.

"Liet!" America cried happily. "Been a while since I've seen you. How are ya?"

Lithuania jumped and smiled. "It's great to see you too, America," His expression turned confused. "But what are you doing here?"

America shrugged, his voice still managing to convey cheerfulness.

"Well, me and Russia made this bet. I lost. Now I'm here for a month."

Lithuania looked terrified. "You lost?"

America looked down, slightly sheepish. "Yeah. I did but.." He suddenly clapped a hand on Liet's shoulder. "At least you're here!"

"Y-yeah," Lithuania's laughter was just a bit too high in pitch. "I'm here. C-come in, America. If you lost, Russia should be expecting you, I guess."

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Lithuania's pov:

Lithuania walked down the hall, ignoring the chattering American by his side. He'd forgotten just how freakishly hyper the young country was.

So America had lost, huh? Dammit, _why_? Did he realize just how hard he'd been hoping that Russia would lose? No, but he was still disappointed.

Liet felt America's eyes on him and turned. "Sorry. Did you ask something?"

America chuckled, jovial as ever. "I asked what the other two Baltics were like. What are their names again? Latava and Estinnia?"

Lithuania laughed. "Close but no cigar. Latvia and Estonia."

America winced. "Right."

He shook his head. "I'd describe them to you, but it's better if you just meet them yourself-oh. Turn here. This is Russia's office. He'll want to know you're here, so go in there first."

America smiled and nodded. "Okay."

He walked in, Lithuania silently wishing him luck.

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Russia's pov:

Russia hadn't heard when America walked in. He hadn't seen him sit in one of the chairs near his desk and he _definitely_ didn't feel his glare searing into him as he sat at said desk. He was too absorbed in the papers in front of him.

So when glowing violet eyes finally looked up and saw an equally luminous blue staring back at them, he nearly fell out of his chair.

"A-ah! America! What a surprise." Russia said, struggling to regain his composure.

"Russia," America greeted back coldly. "And what do you mean surprise? You were in space first. You won the bet. I lost. You were expecting me, right?"

Russia didn't answer.

"Unless.." America's eyes glimmered. "You forgot. You didn't forget our agreement, did you Ruskiy? It was your idea in the first place."

Russia blinked and frowned. "I did not forget, comrade. I am simply surprised you managed to get here so quickly."

It was a complete lie. Russia had half expected _America_ to forget the bet. Let alone come here by himself and of his own free will. He had thought he would have to drag America kicking and screaming across the ocean.

He would've preferred it that way. The thought of America screaming by his hands was so appealing...

"Are there any rules here?"

"Hmm?"

"Any rules I need to follow? Places you wouldn't want me or doors I shouldn't break down?"

"Would you bother to follow them if I gave them to you?"

"Probably not but I'd like to know them anyway."

Russia's brow furrowed. "That is not the way a servant behaves."

America laughed. In the light steaming in from the window he looked like he was glowing. "Believe me Russia, I'll serve you. The results may not be the ones you expect, though," He shrugged. "But how the hell should I know? _You might like them_."

Russia stared at him. What did he mean by that? The way he'd said it was a bit.. odd...

"Anyway," the American continued. "Where will I be staying while I'm here? You have room for me, right?"

He nodded. "You are in the upstairs hall. Across from Latvia's room. Ask one of the Baltics to help you find it."

"Okay," America stood up. "Anything you need while I'm here?"

"Get out of my office and go meet the Baltics and my sisters."

America grinned and left.

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Lithuania's pov:

Lithuania sighed with relief when America walked out. He'd been expecting the worst. "So how'd it go, America?"

"It went fine. He gave me a room and told me to go meet the rest of you guys."

"Which room?"

"The one across from Latvia's."

Lithuania tripped. "O-oh."

America stopped, turning to him. "Why? is there something wrong with that room?"

"No. No of course not," _Yes!_ Lithuania thought. That was the room where they.. and-and Russia too for that matter. He didn't get what it was about that room but it just.. And if America was in that room, every time Russia...

No. No he refused to think about that. America was still staring at him. He must not have been that convincing.

"It's fine, America. There's nothing wrong," He smiled at him.

America smiled back, though his eyes were unreadable. "Okay, then."

"S-so!" Liet said, changing the subject. He felt guilty for lying to America. "Come with me. It's time for you to meet the rest of us."

America's face brightened immediately. "Alright~" He cheered. Had he really just let go of his suspicions that quickly?

Lithuania felt a stomachache coming on.

**A/N: **Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and favorited and crap. This is my first story, so I was basically high on life when all your reviews came in so quickly. I know the story's kind of slow-going for the moment, but it'll pick up once America settles in a bit more. So yeah ^.^


	3. That Damn Room

**A/N:** Hellooooo, people of earth. Sorry for taking so long but I do have an excuse. Two days ago, I was typing this same chapter. I was ONE FUCKING PARAGRAPH away from being done when my power cut out. Not for long, but long enough to eradicate the entirety of what I'd just written. And from a couple of the words that left my mouth, I was _so_ glad that no one that was in that room spoke French.. or German or Italian... OTL. *cough* ANYWAY, the story's up so enjoy.

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America's pov:

America finished putting away his clothes and flopped down on what would be his bed for a month. The communist meet and greet and been weirdly exhausting, even for him. He closed his eyes and went over the list of countries in his head:

He already knew Liet and the Ruskiy.

Latvia would have been pretty cool but _damn_ he must have terrified of everything in that room! America wasn't that terrifying, was he? What the hell did Russia do to him?

Estonia hadn't been there. When he had asked about him, Lithuania had said that he was probably working on some new technology and not to bug him. America had kind of wondered what he meant by that.

Russia's sisters...

Um..

No wonder the guy's head was so jacked.

Ukraine had been fine. Or she had at least seemed semi-sane. But America couldn't help but get this feeling.. Like the second things went wrong, she'd start bawling her eyes out. That.. or put that pitchfork she randomly had in her hand to good use.

Belarus.. let's just say that America had left that conversation incredibly happy that he had Canada as a brother and not Miss Marry Me.

.. okay technically there was also Mex and he _was_ actually kind of li-

America cut himself off at the thought. Thinking about Burrito Head wouldn't help his situation and Belarus had mentioned leaving for a while anyway. Something about carrot sticks..? Whatever.

Using his ADHD to his advantage, America looked around his temporary room.

It was nicer than he'd thought it'd be, really. He'd been expecting some dungeon of terror. But so far, he hadn't found any blood drawings on the wall or rat poison rubbed into his pillow.

Not that that meant he hadn't checked. He had. He'd even done a bomb sweep, but there weren't any traps he could find.

God, Russia was so boring.

But.. maybe he wasn't.

America remembered the look on Lithuania's face when he'd told him his new room. Even if he _had_ insisted there wasn't anything wrong with it. Liet really did suck at lying.

It was what he'd have to lie _about_ that freaked him out a little bit.

So.. what was it?

Liet wouldn't tell him. And Russia definitely wouldn't if it was his own plot. He turned and stared at the door.

Let's ask Latvia.

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Latvia's pov:

After nearly jumping through the ceiling by some freaking hard knocks on their door, anyone would be a little pissed. Such was Latvia's case as he looked at the offending door in frustration. Why couldn't Russia leave him alone? What had he done to him?

Latvia crossed his room and flung open the doors.

"Sorry Russia but I-"

He shut up. It wasn't Russia. It was that new guy. The one with the smile and the annoying laugh. Jesus, why couldn't he remember his name? He knew he heard it all the time, so why.. oh yeah.

America.

"What's wrong with my room? Do you know?"

Latvia blinked. Hi to you too.

"I'm.. not entirely sure what you're talking about, America."

"Oh! Right," America turned and pointed at the door across from him. "When I told Lithuania I had that room, he looked a bit weird about it. So I was wondering if Russia had maybe done something to it. Do you know?"

Latvia stared at him. That was the conclusion he came to when Lithuania looked weird? "Why do you think Russia would do that?"

America's eyes glittered and Latvia kicked himself for asking. It was probably going to be something creepy. Most things associated with Russia were, and Russia and America seemed to know each other _way_ too well for anyone's own good.

"Because I hate him and he hates me and if either of us finally get to kill the other we'll probably do so singing campfire songs."

Latvia's mouth opened and closed for a second, no words coming out. Dammit, he was right!

"I.. I-I see..." he said weakly.

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America's pov:

America studied the small country. What now? They'd just been standing there having a normal conversation when the kid started friggin' shaking again. Had he said something? He ran through the last few things mentioned in his head.

Nope couldn't think of anything.

"So anyway, do you know?"

Latvia looked behind him, back at his door. "America, I can honestly tell you that I can't think of anything that Russia might have done to your room, but Lithuania probably has his reasons. Your best bet would be to ask Estonia. He and Lithuania are closer to each other than me," he paused, his eyes darkening slightly. "I wish we were closer. We could almost be like.. siblings..."

"Siblings aren't always a good thing," America said lightly, thinking of his own cases of insanity back home. England.. France.. Canada.. Philipines.. the states.. Mexico.. that asshole Cuba who was technically more like a cousin..

The hell would he be able to describe that to someone who's never had siblings? The hell would he be able to describe that to someone who's had siblings their whole life? They weren't exactly normal relationships.

"They can get a little.. um, annoying," America's smile became slightly more forced.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Latvia laughed, all shaking was gone. Mentioning family really must have calmed him down. It had had the opposite affect on America.

He shifted awkwardly. "Right. So, you said I should go ask Estonia?"

"Yep."

"Okay. Uh, where's his room?"

"Just down the hall, left side. I think he's there. He should be there.."

"Alright. I'll uh, go ask then." America mentally slapped himself. Could he be any worse at ending conversations?

Latvia didn't seem to be effected. "Cool. See ya'."

"Yeah."

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Estonia's pov:

Estonia stretched, a groan escaping from him as his muscles complained from their lack of use. How long had he been sitting at his desk? Four, five hours? Too long.

He paced the room, trying to get some of the blood in his legs flowing again.

He wasn't working on something über-important. If anything, it'd tell the Baltics what they already knew. However, being the number-oriented person that he was, he really would prefer it on a mathematic scale rather than just guessing around by feelings.

Feelings, after all, could be so inaccurate.

Estonia took off his glasses and cleaned them, sitting back down-

Only to leap back up again in surprise at the loud knock racking his door. He cautiously made his way across the room and turned the knob.

The hell was this guy?

"Hi!" The man said, smiling. "So you're Estonia, huh? I'm America."

Estonia blinked. "Uh, hello," Then, because he really think of a more polite way to phrase it: "What are you doing here."

The guy -America- shrugged. "In the house or at you're door?"

"Let's go with house first..."

"Alright so house: lost a bet, here for a month."

As Estonia opened his mouth to reply, his stomach growled. Crap. He forgot to eat dinner. America's eyes shot wide, a huge grin spreading across his face.

"Hungry? Here man!" He raised his hand and pulled something very, _very_ literally out of thin air.

Estonia's mouth gaped open. "How.. how did yo-"

"You're hungry, right? Want it?"

Estonia looked at his hand.

A hamburger.

He reached out and carefully took the food from America, inspecting it closely. It looked like an ordinary sandwich, but objects don't just magically appear like that.

America frowned slightly. "Are you gonna eat it, or what? It's a hamburger, not a mini-nuke." He sounded slightly exasperated. What? Did he get this reaction to his food a lot?

Estonia found the idea amusing and hid his smirk by taking a bite.

Fantastic.

..horrifyingly greasy, but fantastic.

"Do you like it?" Estonia hadn't seen anyone look as hopeful as America looked at that moment in.. never. He decided to be kind.

"It's.. definitely something I'd want in my kitchen."

America beamed. "Awesome!"

"Not as awesome as me!" A voice floated through the walls, followed by what sounded like bird chirps. America blinked and turned to Estonia.

"Are there ghosts here, or something?"

"Nah, that's just Prussia."

"I thought he didn't exist anymore..?"

"Tell _him_ that."

America shrugged. "No. So anyway, do you know what's wrong with my room? When I said which one one it was, Lithuania looked like he was hiding something. And Latvia had no clue what I was talking about. Did Russia rig it or something?"

Pa-ra-noi-a. Estonia stared at him.

"Which room was it?"

"The one across from Latvia's."

Estonia focused all of his energy into keeping his face neutral.

Russia would. Oh, he _so_ would. God.. he had to tell him. America had to prepare himself.

But...

If America suspected the worst just from an odd look from Lithuania, the hell would he react if Estonia told him the truth?

America was watching him carefully, his expression unreadable. "It would be a good thing to tell me," he said. His was voice calmer, colder, almost calculating where it certainly hadn't been before. "Russia and I aren't exactly best friends, and I know he has something planned. Please just tell me what it is," Light was shining in America's glasses. Estonia couldn't find his eyes. "I would _hate_ for you to get caught up in this, you know?"

He licked his lips before answering, suddenly terrified. He decided to tell the truth, or at least part of it. "I-it just has this way of affecting people. When you go in, you're per.. perfectly fine. When you leave, you're.." America raised an eyebrow. Estonia winced. "ho-horny... plus it attracts you when you're drunk. Like, if you're drunk in the Soviet household, you're going to end up in that room. No exceptions."

America's expression softened. "So I'm gonna take a wild guess and say Russia has nothing to do with that?"

"No. Not at all."

America grinned and laughed, suddenly cheerful again. "Is that all it is? Man, you guys had me goin' there for a sec! I thought it'd be something serious! Nuclear radiation or whatever!"

Estonia gaped. What was with the mood changes? Did Russia really want to kill him so bad that he'd just magically be able to threaten people whenever he thought he was being screwed over? "But-but aren't you afraid? When Russia's drunk and hard, he can.. he can get a little-"

America clapped a warm hand on Estonia's shoulder. "Don't worry about me. I've had more than my fair share of experience dealing with horrible drinkers."

"W-what do you mean by that?"

America's cheeks reddened, his smile wavering for a split second. "Just trust me okay? I can take 'em," he coughed. "Or at the very least, I can hold him off."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I'm just special like that.," America was still flushed. "If you knew what I was talking about, you wouldn't worry."

"What.. what _are_ you talking about?"

"Huh, what do you mean?"

"Y-you just said-"

"I didn't say anything. You feeling okay, Estonia?"

"Uh.." he decided to drop it. His years with Russia had cautioned him against the world's superpowers.

They were all crazy anyway if Russia and America were anything to go by.

"Cool. So, I'll get going. Thanks for telling me. Enjoy the burger."

"O-okay. Night, America."

"Night." America walked out, closing the door behind him.

Estonia stared after him for a bit before shaking his head.

He had another person to test his invention on...

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**A/N: **A couple things about the strange world of Hetalia that my head has somehow mutated into one gigantic.. _thing_:

Yes, America DOES have ADHD. It's just never been diagnosed.

Mexico is America's Belarus except not as psychotic and he's not afraid of him like Russia is of Bela.

The "carrot sticks" that America's talking about is his misunderstanding. Belarus was talking about the "carrot and stick" method, a way of farming. She has to leave to go take care of her crops.

The reason I included Fili (the Philippines) in America's family list is b/c he used to be America's colony, and they still actually have a pretty colonial attitude over there. So he'd be like America's adopted lil' bro.

Yes. Mexico and the Philippines are both guys. DEAL WITH IT

I honestly picture America just breaking Estonia's brain with his magical hamburgers XD

Thanx to everyone who commented. You people keep me going! ^^

Also, if any of you can guess what Estonia's invention is going to tell him about America, I will write a one-shot of any pairing you want. (Except RoChu. That pairing makes me die a little inside each time I see it.. T-T)


	4. It Begins

Russia's pov:

"Russia?"

Russia's eyes shot open, startled out of his sleep. He stared at his waker, silently wishing his eyes would focus.

Why did the sky have two black dots in it?

Wait..

Those were eyes..

Russia shot backwards. He would have been fine if America had just woken him, but he saw absolutely _no_ reason for him to be _right in front _of his_ face_!

"What are you doing in my office, comrade?" He was aware his voice was way colder than necessary, but he was getting just a bit tired of being caught off guard by the silly little capitalist.. who, by the way, wasn't answering. He just kept staring at him, which _definitely_ wasn't necessary. "America," he said darkly. "I am going to need an answer."

America smiled a little too sweetly. "Falling asleep in your office, huh? I only do that when I'm having boss issues."

Russia felt himself pale. America let out a carefree laugh.

"So spill, commie. I got all day~"

"You _have_ all day, America. Please learn your own language. And I am afraid I am not like you. I am not having 'boss issues'. I am fine. Only tired."

Another laugh. He didn't believe him. "You really think I'm that stupid, don't you?" A weird gleam was working its way into America's eyes.

"Da."

"Well, at least you're being honest this time." He leaned against the wall behind Russia's chair, still managing to be way too freaking close for comfort.

Enough was enough.

He stood, pulling his pipe out of nowhere. In two milliseconds, he had America pinned against the same wall he'd been leaning on, pipe against his throat.

"Perhaps I should kill you now, da? It would save me much trouble. And I would get to have some fun as well~"

Had he been talking to anyone else, they probably would have fainted by now.

Unfortunately, he was talking to America. And America just wasn't like the others.

America started laughing again, the previous gleam was now two beacons, lighting his eyes like murderous torches. "Wanna try it, man? G'ahead," Russia felt a shock of cold metal and realized a knife had materialized in America's hand.

And was now being held under his scarf, gently pressing against his throat.

They stared at each other, at a complete stalemate.

The door burst open, making both of them jump about sixty feet.

"Russia sir! Latvia's being invaded by a French plumber! May I go help him ou-" Lithuania stopped when he saw them, his eyes widening in something like horror.

America and Russia released each other, weapons returning to wherever the hell they came from. They both had to take about five steps back to regain what might be considered a normal distance.

Russia spared a quick glance at America, who, thankfully, was looking at Lithuania at the moment.

Had they really been that close to each other? Even if their aim was murder, Belarus was gonna kill him.

America too.

..Urgh.

.

.

America's pov:

The silence stretched on for what seemed like forever. America looked over at Russia, only to find him having a staring contest with the floor.

How helpful.

Finally, he decided to speak for the asshole. "I don't know what this red freak," He jabbed his thumb in Russia's general direction. "is thinking, but if the Frenchie gets away with what we're all very aware he's gonna try, I'll drop-kick his ass to Albuquerque." Russia looked up at him, blinking. America ignored him. "Latvia doesn't deserve that crap. Go save 'im."

Lithuania gave a small grin and flew out of the room faster than an Aniki-stalking Korea.

Liet was gone.

America and Russia were alone.

Again.

More silence..

More of Russia's staring..

After a few more seconds America turned to him, frustrated. "Blink twice if you're alive."

Russia frowned, though he did blink twice. "Why did you do that, comrade? You hate Soviets. Why protect one?"

America sighed. "Just 'cause I hate someone doesn't mean I won't save them from being _raped_."

"Would you save me?"

"No."

"Then why save Latvia?"

"He's not an ass."

Russia seemed to accept this. "No, he is not."

America chewed on his lip. "Plus, I'm really not the biggest fan of France. Always saying how uneducated I am, how uncouth, how I couldn't speak French if I tried, how I have no history.. I'd love to kick him in the face some day, but my bosses will never let me. Stupid diplomatic relations.."

"You sound like England."

"Have I mentioned how much I love France? 'Cause I do. You know I do."

Russia looked confused.

.

.

Estonia's pov:

Estonia chuckled as he screwed in the last bolt.

It was done!

Unable to contain his excitement, he jumped up and down like Poland in a new women's clothing store, grinning like a maniac.

Now.

Time to test it.

Out of dark curiosity, he pointed the instrument at himself first.

3%

He was 3% insane.

Estonia sighed. He'd been hoping for something closer to a 0%, but with countries, it was impossible to get a clean slate. It was simple fact: you live that long, you go at least a _little_ crazy.

He crept out of his room, searching for his next "subjects" (victims).

Ukraine: 6%

Lithuania: 2%

Latvia: 17%

Belarus... 100%

Estonia stared at the screen. That was just special.

But where were Russia and America? Those were the two he was most curious about. He decided to try Russia first, thinking he'd be in his room.

He walked down the hall, wondering what the percentage would be. Belarus was 100%, but surely Russia was more insane than her? His invention, as far as he knew, only went up to 100, so what would happen when he turned it on what might be the most psychotic guy on the planet?

He reached the door, but before he could knock, the knob turned and out walked-

_A-America?_ Estonia suppressed a startled cry and dove behind an open door. The taller blond had been looking over his shoulder. Estonia hoped and prayed to the heavens that the supernation hadn't seen him.

Apparently he hadn't. The American gently closed the door behind him and started walking back towards his room. Estonia remembered just in time and pointed his invention at him.

America: ERROR

He frowned and flicked the screen.

America: 3..

358.2%

Estonia stared at his invention. Hard.

He wasn't sure whether to be more terrified of the statistic or just how exactly he'd gotten the statistic.

He glanced back at Russia's door, deciding then and there that he'd get the freak's reading later.

What had America been doing in Russia's room? Was Russia inside? What had.. He'd thought he heard.. maybe before reaching the door.. wh.. THE FUCK HAPPENED?

Estonia cradled his head in his hands.

He needed a drink.

Dammit..

.

**A/N:** Hey guys! Sorry for taking so long with the update. I don't have an excuse this time. I'm just lazy -.-

Quick note for anyone French who is reading this: Sorry. We're rude to you when you're rude to us. Also, about that stereotype you seem to have of Americans, the one where we apparently can't speak French correctly, even if we try? French is the 2nd most learned language in America (next to Mexican Spanish). According to statistics, most American students who follow through with French are able to lose or reduce their accents three times as fast as French students are theirs. Sorry for this rant. I don't mean any offence, but I really am kinda pissed about that stereotype..

No one got what Estonia's invention would be, huh? That's okay! ^^ xPorcelianLipsx won anyway due to something in a later chapter~

Short chapter is short. Sorry about that.

Wiedesehen, mon amies~ I'll try to update more quickly!


	5. Misunderstood Madness

**A/N: **Ja, I are very aware that I haven't done anything with this story for like six months. Sorry about that. I'm writing this story in a journal outside of the computer as well and it slowly found its way to the back of my closet. It was just a mixture of writer's block and "I really don't wanna write this right now... sleep... bed..." feelings. Anyway, you guys probably want to read the story by now so I'll go away.

.

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America's pov:

America walked into his room, closing the door behind him before flopping down on his bed.

Tonight had been a disaster. He'd been surprised at the request in the first place but still...

America groaned and flipped onto his side. He and Russia hadn't been able to find a music they both liked, hadn't been able to establish a common rhythm, and America couldn't help but feel as though he'd been dictating Russia's every move.

But what could you expect when America gives Russia dancing lessons?

It was only modern dancing, of course. Russia was actually really good at the more traditional ones, which was good because those were actually America's weak point. Russia had promised to help America out with those later.

No one knew about these lessons for two reasons:

a) They had just begun two days after America arrived at Russia's place

b) It was a guarantee that if either of them blabbed, the other would slit their throat all over the nice carpeting

America sat up and looked at the clock.

Two in the morning. Fantastic.

He and the commie were gonna die tomorrow.

America gave up and closed his eyes, falling into a rather interesting nightmare in which he and Russia had to dance in front of a room full of multiple Prussias, Frances, and Englands. Soon, Prussia and France disappeared, leaving only England, who for some reason kept looking at him sadly.

"I thought you wanted to dance with me?" dream England asked.

But every time America tried to answer him, the music would turn up and England couldn't hear him.

And then of course, at some point in the dream, Mexico showed up in a straight-jacket made out of pink highlighters and pot leaves. He kept chasing him, screaming, "You should join me, hermano! Asylums are really fun! And Taco Bell is _not_ authentic Mexican food!" The sleeves of America's t-shirt lengthened, fastening behind him. He lost his balance and fell, Mexico's laugh echoing behind him as all the walls around him turned white. "See hermano, I told you it was fun!"

America woke in a cold sweat.

What a weird dream...

Taco Bell was totally authentic Mexican food!

No more hamburgers before bed.

.

.

Latvia's pov:

"Latvia? Latvia?"

The small nation sat up quickly, almost banging his head on the headboard.

"Are you okay?" Estonia asked.

Latvia glared at him. "I was sleeping." He looked at the clock. "And it's six a.m.! You're insane!" He pulled the covers back over his head.

"Not as insane as you," Estonia mumbled.

"What was that?" Latvia asked lightly.

"Um, nothing."

"Why are you in my room, Estonia?"

"I..uh- Latvia what did you think of America? Have you met him yet?"

Latvia slowly pulled down the covers. "He seemed fine. A little awkward but fine. Estonia, where are you going with this? What does America have to do with you waking me up at ungodly hours?"

"Everything. Believe me. _Everything._"

Latvia stared at him. "Spill."

.

.

Russia's pov:

Russia painfully got out of bed and got dressed, replaying last night in his head.

Horrible.

Humiliating.

Those were the only two word to describe it.

He and America should really forget about wars. If they wanted to cause their opponents pain, all they had to do was tag-team it and give them dancing lessons. Said opponents would probably die in ten minutes.

Still...

Russia would much rather have America teaching him than any of the Baltics or his sisters. The Baltics wouldn't tell him if he was making mistakes and his sisters-

It was better with America.

The stupid little blue-eyed capitalist definitely wasn't afraid to point out his mistakes, that's for sure. They must've run through those drills a billion times. Who'd ever think America's inner army sargent would come out while doing the bunny hop?

It didn't matter though. Russia would be able to pay him back when he taught him to waltz later on.

Russia adjusted his scarf and walked downstairs. Estonia was already at the table, writing something. He looked up, startled by Russia's entrance.

"R-Russia sir! I'm sorry, I didn't expect you to be up so early! Would you like me to make breakfast?"

"Hmm, no it's fine, Estonia. I was actually thinking of making breakfast today."

Estonia blinked. "Oh. O-okay then. Thanks."

Russia began to answer before a tired voice cut him off.

"You're gonna make breakfast, huh? Remind me to check it for poison."

"A-America!" Estonia looked, if possible, even more startled than when Russia came in. "Yo-you're up early, too?"

"Yeah," America laughed. "I actually didn't get much sleep last night."

Russia nodded. "I also did not sleep much."

Estonia stiffened, his eyes widening. For some odd reason, a blush started creeping up his cheeks. "R-really. Both of you?"

America lied. "Politics. We had to do that crap all night. Not. Fun."

Russia looked over at him, slightly amused, "They can be fun sometimes, comrade."

The tall blond snorted. "I guess so," He looked him in the eye. "Last night wasn't that bad."

It was the American's coded message to the Russian. _You danced fine, relax. _Russia smirked and looked back at Estonia.

Why was he shaking?

Why was he blood-red?

Why did he keep looking back and forth between him and America?

Apparently, America noticed, too. "Estonia, what's up? You look like hell."

Estonia opened and closed his mouth for a second, finally finding his voice. "It's n-nothing! I-I-I'm fine! I am. I sw-swear!" He looked more like he was convincing himself than the other two.

From the looks of things, it wasn't working.

"Are.. are you sick or something Estonia?" America's voice was concerned. He took a step towards him but stopped when Estonia almost leapt back into the wall.

Russia thought America looked hurt.

Estonia must have thought so too. He scrambled to cover up his mistake.

"Ah-no! I mean yes! Yes, I'm not sick! O-or maybe I am? Sorry America. Sorry Russia. I'm a little out of it right now."

"We noticed," both America and Russia said this at the same time. Estonia looked like he was about to faint.

"Are you sure you are not ill, Estonia?" Russia asked. "If you need it, you can take the day off."

Estonia shook his head quickly. "No really! I'm fine."

Russia didn't believe him. "Well then at least take the morning off. You look like you need more sleep. As I said, I'll make breakfast. If you are that ill I can even take it up to you if you would li- _What is it, America?_" The last part came out a bit darker than he meant it, but the capitalist had been staring at him since almost the second he started talking.

"You," America sounded ready to set the Russian on fire.

"What about me?"

"You.. are supposed to be an asshole."

Russia's brain shut down for a second. Is this what America thought of him? He couldn't understand why he'd.. What'd it.. What?

"H-huh?"

"You're an evil asshole."

"America.. I don't.. qu-quite understa-"

"You're an evil, disgusting communist. You're system is jacked, but you push it on people anyway. You hurt people just for fun. You're not supposed to be nice. Why are you acting nice right now? You're evil."

Russia hesitated. What did America mean? He wasn't evil was he? Did he hurt people? No. He had always thought that that was what America did. Was this what capitalists thought of communists? It was an awful lot like what communists thought of capitalists. M-maybe neither one was-

He cut himself off at the thought. No. He was right. America was just trying to push his guilt onto him, that's all. Even so, that didn't stop his voice from wavering slightly when he answered the man's rant.

"I.. I am being nice because I want to be nice."

"Well stop with the charade."

"It is not a charade."

"Yeah, it is. It makes you seem nice."

"I was not aware of this.."

"No? Well it does."

Russia couldn't take this. He decided to turn the tables on him. "You think of me as nice?"

"I- no!"

"How very sweet of you, America."

"I said it makes you _seem_ nice, commie."

"If I was nice would you become one?"

"Never. I'm my own country, dammit!"

"We could be our own country together.."

They had completely forgotten that Estonia was in the room and were about a millimeter away from each other.

Russia's eyes gleamed. "You will become one someday, comrade."

"Dream on." America snarled.

"I will dream," Russia's arm snaked out and grabbed America's wrist. He wasn't so much holding it as... massaging it? America turned a light pink. "I will dream of that and many other things. Like last night for instance. That could be considered special, da? You taught me how to do things I never would have known how to do."

The trapped man bypassed pink, turning a bright red. Whether it was from embarrassment or anger the Russian couldn't tell. "It wasn't traditional, smart-ass!"

"No, it wasn't, was it? That will come later on. Then _I_ will be teaching _you_ new things. I hope you are ready for them."

America gave him a twisted little smile. Russia had seen that smile before on the battlefield. What followed afterwards usually wasn't pretty. "I hope _you're_ ready, Russia. I'm a fast learner. Even when I'm inexperienced, I'll always end up on top!"

A loud thump resounded throughout the room. The two nations turned to find its source.

Estonia had passed out on the floor.

**A/N:** Not too much I gotta say, but I'll leave you with this parting thought.

America always tops~~


End file.
